


Signed For

by RavenDarkwood



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, BDSM, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dehumanization, Dom/sub, F/F, Human Pet, Human Trafficking, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:55:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25455811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenDarkwood/pseuds/RavenDarkwood
Summary: After thirteen escape attempts from Faerie Elias is running out of Fae who would want Jon after all the trouble he's caused. Thankfully for Elias there's one option left that may satisfy everyone.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 28
Kudos: 174





	1. Chapter 1

When the trunk opened Jon kicked his legs out, but it wasn’t hard for Peter to catch them. Despite everything Jon was still small, and Peter wasn’t.

“Are you sure that it’s a good idea to take him out?” Peter asked Elias.

“Let him explore his new environment,” Elias said with a wave of his hand, and Peter let go of Jon’s feet.

Jon was out of the trunk before either of them could talk, and was already making his way around the apartment, eyes darting around as he took everything in.

“That’s if you get Martin to take him. You know he doesn’t like playing your games.”

“Ever since his mother moves into that… what did he call it, a care home?” At Peter’s nod Elias continued. “Well, you know how much he likes to play house and take care of people. Makes him feel useful, or whatever pathetic nonsense he thinks. A pet would do him good.”

“Oh thank Christ,” Jon breathed out when he opened one of the doors. He rushed inside, and locked the door behind him. After a few moments there came the sound of running water.

“Did he just stop his formulation of an escape plan just to take a shower?” Peter asked with a raised eyebrow.

Elias hummed, waving his hand. “He has this thing about being dirty. I think he finds it very distracting.”

Peter nodded and stepped away from Elias to go through one of Martin’s bookshelves. “Martin might need to get some more books.”

“Well, it’s up to Martin how healthy he wants Jon.”

The front door opened, and when Martin walked in he let out a curse that wilted nearby flowers when he saw who exactly was in his apartment. “What do you two want?” Martin asked in lieu of a greeting as he locked the door behind him.

“Is that really anyway to talk to Peter and I?”

“I’m not going to play your games Elias,” Martin said as he crossed his arms and used his height to tower over Elias and Peter. “What do you want?”

Elias pressed his lips together in a frown. “Well, your birthday is coming up and with all that’s been going on with your mother-”

Martin set down his bag hard on the table and glared at Elias.

“I figured that it was high time you get a pet and-”

“No,” Martin said quickly, looking around his apartment. “No. Where are they?”

“He’s in the bathroom showering,” Elias responded coolly. “I don’t understand why you’re reacting-”

“Because I’ve told you multiple times that I don’t want any of your pets.”

“You had your mother to look after. You don’t anymore. Perfect timing,” Peter said from the couch.

“You’re asking to take care of an entire human being. That’s a big responsibility to just drop on someone.”

“Oh Martin, just let him have the run of your apartment, he’ll basically take care of himself. He’s very…” Elias wrinkled his nose. “Independent.”

Martin watched Elias’ face for a moment. “There’s something going on here,” he said, looking between Elias and Peter. “Something neither of you are telling me.”

The bathroom door opened and Jon came out wearing a robe that was much too big for him, his dirty clothes bunched up in his hand.

“There’s a hamper in my bedroom,” Martin called out when he saw Jon. “You can wear some of my clothes while you wait.”

Jon didn’t say anything, but just looked Martin up and down. “You’re a fae?”

“Yes, he does need to lose some weight, doesn’t he?” Elias smirked up at Martin.

“Oh fuck off,” Martin muttered back, looking Jon over when he paused.

“See, he’s a twink. You like that sort of thing, being able to pick people up and hold them and hold them down. He’s even a submissive, it’s really the perfect match.”

Martin blinked as he looked over Jon, and turned to Elias with a smile that showed off his sharp teeth. “Oh I see what’s going on now. He’s that human that’s nearly escaped thirteen times, isn’t he? The one the blew up the Circus and survived because he’s too fae to die by this point.”

“Well-”

“Didn’t he escape the Underground and dragged a wolf out with him? Something that no one, fae or human, has ever done before.”

“Jon go get dressed,” Elias spat out.

“And the only reason you’re trying to give him to me is because he’s going to be too fae for this whole thing soon and you don’t want him coming for you once he is, and you can’t kill him or make him disappear because it’ll go against your vow of no escaped humans will come from you.” Martin grinned like he had solved something. “That’s what this is about, your stupid vow and reputation.”

Elias narrowed his eyes at Martin. “I can't lie Martin. I do think you need a pet. This is a big apartment for one person.”

“Don’t pretend you care just because you and Peter are a, I dunno, a _thing_. I’m fine being alone.”

“No, I don’t think you are. You hate being alone, we both know you do. Peter dear, go fetch Jon will you? He’s trying to get onto the fire escape and just burned himself on it.”

“Oh poor thing,” Martin winced. “I’ll get the medicine out.” 

“See, you’re already taking care of him.”

“Fuck off Elias,” Martin said as he pulled a small mason jar filled to the brim with a light green ointment.

Peter came back holding Jon under his arm. There were four long scratches down Peter’s cheek that were bleeding fog. “Where do you want him?”

“Just set him down in this chair,” Martin pointed out as he maneuvered another chair to sit across from him.

Peter dropped Jon in the chair, who twisted around to stare out one of the windows.

“How’s your sales pitch going?” Peter asked once he returned to Elias’ side.

“Very well.”

“Shut up Elias. Alright, that doesn’t look too bad,” Martin murmured to Jon upon seeing the red mark across his palm and fingers. He handed Jon his hand back and went to open the jar.

“What part of Faerie are we in?” Jon demanded, not turning from the window.

“We’re not in Faerie, we’re in London.”

Jon turned to him, eyes wide. “What year is it?”

“2015.”

“Right.” Jon squared his thin shoulders, and steeled his face. “Right.”

He surged forward.

“Ow!” Martin pushed Jon away, not far as Jon was now perched on Martin’s lap. He touched his lip where Jon’s teeth had cut it, and his finger came back bloody.

Jon frowned. “My teeth are sharper than I remember.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have moved my face at the last moment either. I just wasn’t sure if you were attacking me or…” Martin trailed off as he watched Jon lick Martin’s blood off of his own lips.

Jon seemed to notice this, and went for Martin’s hand. He probably would have gotten it if Martin hadn’t realized at the last moment that _Elias and Peter were still in the room_.

“Desperate, aren’t you?” Martin murmured as he caught Jon’s wrist in his hand.

“Better here then back with them,” Jon answered smoothly with a shrug.

Martin sighed, and leaned his head forward.

“Look at how many scars he has Martin. He’s been through so much. He needs a good home and someone that will take care of him,” Elias called over to them.

Martin sighed through his nose. “Fine, on one condition.”

Elias smirked as he took out the contract. “Yes?”

“I want his name, and I want to be the only one with it.”

That smirk slid off of Elias’ face.

Peter started snickering from his spot next to Elias.

“I don’t know why you’re surprised, we both know I don’t share.” Martin wrapped his free arm around Jon and pulled him close. Jon tucked himself under Martin’s jaw, just watching Elias.

Elias opened his mouth, paused, and huffed out a laugh. “That is quite the deal Martin.”

Martin shrugged. “Well, I am doing you a favor by taking him. We could probably call it even then.”

“He’s not wrong,” Peter added.

“Shut up Peter,” Elias snarled petulantly. He sighed, paced in a circle, and sighed again. “Fine. Because it’s you. And your birthday.” He made that amendment to the contract and slid it across the table.

Martin read the contract over, and with only the slightest bit of hesitation signed it. “There,” he said, sliding it back over.

“Pleasure doing business with you. He’s your problem now.” Elias packed up his things, sharp teeth glinting in the light as he smiled. “I’ll leave his trunk with you.

“Maybe we’ll visit you more often,” Peter remarked lightly.

“Don’t bother,” Martin snorted, letting go of Jon’s wrist to run his fingers through Jon’s long hair. “I like it better when you’re not around.”

Peter watched him for a long moment. “Alright. Stay well.” Peter opened a door that hadn’t been there previously for Elias.

“See you soon Martin,” Elias called behind him as him and Peter left.

When the door finally shut suddenly Martin realized he had a freshly showered man in his lap, wearing his clothes, and the collar he had been wearing before was gone.

“Right. Jon, could you lean back for a sec?”

Jon shivered as the weight of Martin’s words fell over him and he complied. “Right, right, the collar, right?” Jon muttered, leaning his head back without prompt.

“Yeah, just hold still.” Martin laid his hands on Jon’s throat, rubbing his thumbs back and forth along one of the many scars there for a second.

“I was held at knife point,” Jon stated.

Martin cooed. “Poor thing. As much as I hate to admit it Elias was right. You do need someone taking care of you.” He brought his thumbs together, and ran them around Jon’s throat, and once he got to the back of his neck he snapped with both of his hands. “There, that should be it.”

Jon nearly lept off of Martin’s lap and to the nearest mirror; one that Martin had hanging in the hallway because he was once told it would make his apartment look bigger. “I don’t see anything,” he called to Martin, running his fingers over his throat.

“Can you feel it?”

“Well, yes. It’s very thin though. Doesn’t it defeat the point of the collar if other people can’t see it?”

Martin shrugged. “You know it’s there, I know it’s there, other fae will know it’s there. I don’t see the need to be obvious about it.” He stood and headed to the kitchen to make dinner.

* * *

“Oh are you leaving?”

Jon jerked to see Martin standing in the kitchen, head tilted as he observed Jon.

Jon tightened his grip on his bag. “Are you going to stop me?”

“Oh. No, I don’t really need to.” Martin shrugged.

Jon narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

“This isn’t Faerie, fae food doesn’t just… grow on trees here, and human food isn’t going to stop you from starving,” Martin explained as he watched cold realization wash over Jon’s face. “You’ll have to come back when you get hungry. Oh you poor thing,” Martin said as he stepped over to Jon. He laid his hands lightly on Jon’s jaw, cupping it gently. “You didn’t think about that did you?”

“You’re not the only fae in the city,” Jon desperately added after a moment of thinking.

“Do you think anyone else is going to feed you while you’re wearing my collar? I’m quite well known for not wanting to share.”

“And they’ll care?”

“Once they see its me they will.”

Jon frowned as he thought, looking down at the floor. “So, what? You’re going to take me back to bed? Or are you going to punish me first?”

“I’m not going to stop you from leaving.” Martin smiled sweetly, and the hands cupping Jon’s jaw went through his throat. Martin ran his thumbs over the collar, back and forth, feeling both Jon’s pulse and his swallowing in his fingers. “I’m not even going to magically make you come back. Because you need to eat, and you’ll come back all on your own.”

Martin pressed a small kiss to the top of Jon’s head. “Are you still going out?”

Jon hesitated, and twisted his head to look out a window, to the London night. “I have people who’ll want to know I’m back and London and alive. I’ve been… gone for four years.”

“Can it wait until the morning?” Martin asked gently.

Jon turned back to him sharply. “Are you going to stop me from leaving in the morning?”

“No. Being your prison guard… doesn’t appeal to me,” Martin explained. “I’m fine with letting you come and go as you please, as long as you’re taking care of yourself and being healthy.”

“Ah I see, you want the sort of relationship where we just pretend that you don’t magically own me and can control me.”

Martin wrinkled his nose. “No that’s… If you had a pet you would want to make sure that it’s happy and healthy, wouldn’t you?”

“I’m not- Why am I even bothering…” Jon muttered to himself.

“Right well, Elias’ contract doesn’t allow me to let you go, and even if it did and I wanted to, you would still need to come back to eat, so…” Martin trailed off with a shrug.

“Oh, you’re right, poor you, Elias’ contract-”

“Okay, yeah you’re right, you have it worse out of this situation, I’m not saying that you don’t.” Martin tilted his head back, and let go of Jon’s throat. “Go if you want to, Jon, but either way I’ll see you for breakfast in the morning. And if you’re going to stay you know where the bedroom is. I’ll be in the living room watching Netflix if you want to come in and let me cuddle you.”

Jon watched Martin’s retreating back, and he dropped his hand from the bag. “Georgie probably wouldn’t want me waking her up in the middle of the night anyway,” he muttered to himself. He took off the bag and set it against the wall next to the door.

He almost turned down the hallway to the bedroom, but after a moment of consideration he swore softly and followed Martin into the living room


	2. Chapter 2

The door of Georgie’s opened, but it’s not Georgie standing there. Instead he finds an Eastern Asain woman who was somehow shorter than him.

He Knows her name is Melanie King, he Knows she's Georgie's girlfriend, he Knows that they’re in the middle of recording something, and he Knows that Melanie really doesn’t want him being there right now.

“Hi, sorry, we’re recording something. Would you mind coming back later?”

Jon blinked, and wondered if he should push it. Surely coming back after four years of being missing without a trace counted as an emergency? Then again, it’s not as though he was in terrible trouble right this second. Surely he could wait?

“Alright,” Jon said with a nod. “Just… Please tell Georgie that… Jonny was here and that he wants to catch up.”

Melanie nodded at him, her lips pressed into a line, and her eyebrows raised. “Right, anything else?”

Jon Knows that she wants to get back to work, that there’s so much that could go wrong being a YouTuber and it’s stressful and she just wants to get back to working on it until it’s done so she can start the processes over again.

“No.” He lingered for a moment. “I’ll just be on my way then.” He doesn’t move.

“Right well, see you later then.” Melanie doesn’t wait for him to leave, and just shuts the door in his face.

When he walked down the sidewalk he Knows that Melanie told Georgie that it’s nothing to worry about, that it was just someone who would come back later, and doesn’t mention his name.

* * *

“Did you, um, did you get your errands done?” Martin asked when Jon walked through the front door. It was lunch time, and Martin was stirring a stew made of raw meat and over ripe fruit. It was very red, and looked a bit like when you boil down fruit for canning purposes.

Jon can’t help but take a deep breath when he’s finally able to take his Glamour off. He hadn’t realized how suffocating it would feel. “No, she was busy. I’m going to try again after lunch and a shower. After that try and get in touch with my grandmother.”

Martin hummed. “Do you want anything with your food?”

The animal was a silver deer that lived in the Hunting Lands of Faerie. The fruit had come from the Flesh Orchards, and were called Bleeding Hearts. “No, I’m fine,” Jon said. “I’m not sure if anything will go with that.”

“Fair enough.” Martin dished out the stew into bowls, and handed one over to Jon. “Sorry if this isn’t very good. I’m not much of a cook,” Martin said with an apologetic smile.

“It’s better than starving,” Jon said with a shrug. They took their seats at the table, where Jon was sitting at the foot and Martin was sitting next to him, his chair half turned towards Jon.

The food tasted overly sweet and very iron-y.

“Do you like it?” Martin prompted, running his fingers along the table, not quite looking at Jon.

“I do. I have a bit of a sweet tooth.” Jon took another bite and shrugged. It was pretty basic, as far as food went. “So how are the fae on this side of the Hedge? Are there any?”

Martin tilted his head. “There are some, but not a lot. Um… less than ten? Some came over willingly, some were banished, some go back and forth. There’s an Archfey-”

“There’s an Archfey in London?” Jon froze up, and he knows. “The Archfey of London, who is relatively new, brings the total population of Archfey up to fifteen. No one knows who the Archfey is, or even how their powers work on this side of the Hedge.” Jon blinked as he came back to himself.

“Jon... are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine. It’s just something that happens sometimes…” Jon leaned forwards, drawing his shoulders up around himself.

Martin watched him for a moment. “Alright, if you’re sure. And you’re not wrong, no one knows how the hell an Archfey works in a world that shouldn’t bend to their word. I guess they can just… mold the bits of Faerie that leak in, but no one knows for sure.”

“Alright, so there’s one Archfey in the city, and fae that do what?” Jon prompted impatiently.

“Uh… Well, a lot I guess. They trade back and forth with Faerie, sometimes they host parties to align with their Courts and the fae come over and visit, a few take care of the tithe-”

“Tithe?” Jon interrupted. He can feel the pressure pounding in the back of his head as he knew that he could just figure out the information himself.

Martin wrinkled his nose, and looked away. And then up at the ceiling, as though it would give him any advice on how to make this any easier. “That’s... It’s something truly disgusting and disturbing and directly relates to you, are you sure you want to kno-”

“Yes,” Jon interrupted. He leaned forward across the table, stew forgotten. “I want to know.”

Martin sighed, and pushed his bowl away from him. “Alright, I’m just… going to say this fast I guess. Fae aren’t the only supernatural in the city, and the tithe is a lasting peace agreement with Faerie and its Archfey and whatever supernatural beings are the strongest any given bit of time. The tithe is… It’s humans. They gather up about fifty humans that have… Transgressed in some way, and they’re given to fae to be… spread around Faerie, and transformed into fae-touched, and then into fae. If they live long enough.”

Jon stared at Martin. He looked down at his stew, and fell back in his chair. “...Transgressed?”

Martin shrugged a little helplessly. “You know, things like stepping in a fairy ring, um…” He trailed off. “Giving some fae clothes, go to the wrong party, um…”

“Opening a book that wasn’t meant to be opened,” Jon suggested with a snort. He tapped the table in front with the tips of his fingers, and sighed.

Martin closed his mouth with a click of his teeth. He placed his hand on top of Jon’s still hand as gently as he possibly could. “I’m so sorry.”

“Right,” Jon responded tightly, but didn’t remove his hand from under Martin’s. “So, fae-touched. Is that what I am?” It felt like too soft of a word for what he had gone through. Fae-grasped. Fae-pulled. Fae-beaten.

“Yes. The fae-touched here have either escaped or won back their freedom or… whatever brings them here form a bit of a community… at least as much as one can when everyone is always afraid of being captured and being sent back to Faerie. It’s hard to know which fae-touched are still under control of fae and which ones aren’t.”

“Like I am.” Jon’s words were pointed, but he still didn’t pull his hand out from under Martin’s.

Martin winced, but didn’t argue. He didn’t pull his hand away either.

“Is that what you are? A fae? I know Elias,” Jon had to pause, because upon even saying his name he felt the need to spit or drink something, just so he could get the taste of that name out of his mouth. “Made a joke of it when I asked yesterday.”

“I try not to be too specific. The fae-touched think I’m a fae-touched, and the fae think I’m a fae. I have absolutely no idea.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not. Iron doesn’t even burn me sometimes. Sometimes I’m wearing Glamor, sometimes I just look human. It’s weird, and I just try not to think about it.”

Jon fixed Martin with a studying look. “I’m going to figure it out. I’m going to figure out what you are.”

Martin chuckled, and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “Well, if you figure it out let me know.”

* * *

Jon’s first owner was The Librarian, an owl-like fae. He, along with another assistant, helped her run the Library.

His eyes were the first things to change, along with the other assistant’s. They would read together after The Librarian left them, and wasn’t so convenient that they could read in the dark?

Jon never got any taller while he was in Faerie, but his arms and fingers and toes became longer the more he stretched for the books that were out of his reach. Eventually it became so much easier to just climb the book shelves, and climbing itself became so much easier when his finger and toe nails became sharp and claw-like. 

And when those claws didn’t stop him from falling he developed wings.

There was never much room for actual flying in the Library, but it made it so much easier to flutter from bookshelf to bookshelf.

“We’re going to have to get you your own clothes,” Martin chuckled from behind him, searching for another pair of pants that could possibly be small enough to fit Jon.

Jon didn’t say anything, but because he Knows that Martin really likes seeing Jon in his clothes, something that worries Martin so deeply because he doesn’t know if it’s possessiveness or care, both things that Martin knows he’s capable of.

He let Martin’s bathrobe fall down his arms and collect at his waist, and he Knows when Martin started to stare. Jon also Knows that Martin found him attractive, for whatever reason, so he’s not surprised at all to hear Martin cross the room and place a gentle hand on his back.

Jon wondered for a moment if feeling Martin above him would carry the same weight as the Underground, or wearing Glamour. He wasn’t sure, as he had fallen asleep on Martin the night before and found him very soft and comfortable. Then again, how much would that softness actually matter if Martin was pressing him into the mattress?

He shivered as Martin’s other hand mirrored the position on his back, and they both moved slowly up, stopping just below his shoulder blades. “Did someone do this to you?”

Jon frowned, brow wrinkling, but didn’t turn back around. This isn’t where he thought this was going to go. “Wings are delicate and cumbersome. Most of the damage happened when I was pulling myself and the wolf out of the Underground.”

Martin’s fingers started to draw nonsense patterns on Jon’s skin, and they left a trail of tingling flesh in their wake. “Do you want them fixed?”

Jon froze. “Can you… do that?”

Martin doesn’t answer for a moment. “I know someone who can. There’s a couple of fae-touched that owe me. I can cash it, if you want.”

Jon turned around suddenly to stare Martin down. “Why do they owe you?”

Martin doesn’t even blink at the question, and when he spoke Jon saw that his teeth were sharp. Hadn’t they been flat earlier? And hadn’t they been sharp the day before? If he parted Martin’s hair would he see the pointed ears of the fae and fae-touched, or the rounded ears of a human? “The fae-touched rely on fae and other fae-touched to bring food or other goods in through the Hedge. I help with that. When they can’t afford other people’s rates they come to me. I try not to be too much trouble, but I want to help where I can.”

“You said that the other fae-touched think you’re a fae-touched, right?”

“Yeah?”

“What would they do if they knew about me?” Jon reached up to run his finger along the collar he can’t see but knows is there.

Martin smiled down at him. “Um, well they would probably never trust me again, and maybe kill me so you could be free?"

Jon frowned up at him, and shook his head. “That’s a lot to risk for just me. Why?”

“Jon you literally threw yourself at me because you didn’t want to go back. The tithing system is horrible, and I don’t know why it even exists, but I do what I can to help.”

Jon narrowed his eyes up at Martin. “That’s it? You just wanted to help?”

Martin looked taken aback, and pulled his hands away from Jon. “Do you not believe me?”

Jon, who tried desperately not to miss the contact, moved forward into Martin’s space. “I do, but I don’t understand why, or what you’re getting out of this. I Know that you find me attractive, and you find this-” Jon gestured towards his own throat. “Hot, despite what you want to think, and despite the fact you’ve been very touchy-feely you haven’t actually attempted to have sex with me-”

“Jon, you’ve been here a _night_ -”

“I’m not finished.” Jon’s voice was crisp and tight, and didn’t really allow for Martin to do much more than nod and sit down on the bed.

Jon nodded down at him. “Right well… well…” He didn’t know what to say next, after a sigh just sat down next to Martin. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m finally back in London. That was my goal for the longest time, but now what?”

Martin’s hand twitched, but he didn’t reach for Jon. “Sorry,” he said instead, more to the bedspread than Jon.

“You want me here, and you _hate_ that.” Jon turned to watch Martin squeeze his eyes shut. “You like that you can be as clingy and caretaking and possessive and jealous you can be about me because it’s safe. I can’t leave you. You _want_ me to be your pet.”

Martin pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, and took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry.”

Jon nodded, remembering the feeling of Martin’s hands on his throat the night before, how he traced his hands over the collar. “If you could, would you let me go?”

“Yes.” Martin’s answer is without hesitation, and he ripped his hands away from his eyes to stare over at Jon. He nearly knocked his glasses off in the process. “Without a second thought.”

Jon nodded, and looked away from Martin. “Wonderful, we’re both very confused about this situation. And for the record, I enjoy it when you touch me. After years of nothing but pain and suffering and all of that,” Jon said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “... It feels nice,” he admitted. “Though on the other hand I’ve hurt a lot of people. I’m not sure if I deserve feeling nice.” Jon clenched his jaw shut. He didn’t want to start rambling about his feelings of all things. “This is so weird. We met yesterday, and now we’re having… I don’t know, a relationship negotiation.”

“Well… I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better? You seem nice-”

Jon interrupted that with a laugh.

“Stop that, you really do.” Gently Martin reached over and took Jon’s hand, brushing his fingers along it. “We’re going to be… living together, so we should? And please tell me if I do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

Jon made an affirming noise, and just turned to watch Martin play with his hand.

“Your skin kinda feels like the paper in really old books? You know, all delicate, and…” Martin trailed off, and let go of Jon’s hand. “Right, that was probably creepy. Sorry.”

Jon lazily lifted his eyes from his hand to Martin. “I cry ink.”

“No fucking way. That sounds like such a mess! How do you deal with that?”

“I try not to cry,” Jon responded with a wryly smile and a roll of his eyes.

“I’ll have to see that one day,” Martin laughed, before freezing up. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he quickly assured Jon. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Jon thought back to the Library, to the other assistant. The Librarian favored and trusted her, and gave her the job of restoring the books when they were damaged. Eventually bits of her fingertips were stained black with ink, and she never ran out when she was writing.

They burned down the Library. The Librarian had been inside of it at the time, and she died. They made it to the Hedge, and the other assistant managed to break past the thorns.

He didn’t. 

“I don’t want to hurt anyone either.”

* * *

* _I am someone’s pet_

* _That someone doesn’t seem to want to anything besides care for me_

* _That someone seems like he needs some therapy_

“Not that I have any room to talk,” Jon laughed to himself.

* _He said that if anyone finds out they might kill him_

* _Killing him will set me free of his collar_

* _I asked him to do this_

* _> If he dies I go back to Elias_

* _All of the other times I attempted to escape Elias always found him._

Jon tapped the pen against the notepad. Maybe he needed to think more broadly about this?

* _I was stolen to Faerie as apart of a tithing system_

* _The tithing system is between Faerie and whatever supernatural beings are also in power - Who is it now?_

* _Are the police involved? - Probably_

Jon stopped writing again, and sighed, running his hand through his hair.

* _I’m in London_

* _I don’t want to go back to Faerie_

* _I like it when Martin holds me_

“Well, that hardly seems relevant,” Jon muttered to himself, but he left it. The whole point of this entire thing was to try and get his feelings down on paper to try and sort out what he wants to do.

* _I want to be free_

* _Fae have died because I wanted to be free_

* _Being a pet is better than the Underground or working at the Hives_

* _It feels nice to be wanted?_

* _I deserve good things?_

* _I don’t understand what Martin wants/is getting out of this_

* _Why does the tithing system exist?_

* _Who specifically set up the tithing system?_

* _Do I actually find Martin’s care nice or am I just trying to make myself okay about a situation I have no control in whatsoever?_

* _Am I willing to let someone else kill Martin, who I asked to do this, so I can be free?_

“Shit,” Jon sighed to himself, and he dropped the pen. “What the hell am I doing? What the hell am I going to do?”

This was too soon. This was all too soon, and too much, and too _rushed_.

“One thing at a time,” Jon muttered as a reminder. “I’m going to deal with this one thing at a time.” He leaned his head back, and he could feel the collar against his skin. Not digging in by any means. The collar was never physically uncomfortable, but it was easy to forget about sometimes.

Right, that was something he needed to think about. He picked the pen back up and started writing again.

* _If I’m wearing a collar all of the time does that make me an exhibitionist? Does it count as including non-consenting people in a scene when this isn’t even a scene and they can’t even see the collar? Do I need to feel guilty about this?_

Smaller. He needed to start smaller.

* _Am I enjoying wearing the collar even though it’s against my will and the fact that it’s a symbol being someone’s literal pet?_

That still isn’t small enough.

* _If I still enjoy wearing collars is that okay?_

Jon stared down at the notepad, and closed it. “Alright, that’s enough for today.” He had deeper concerns then if old kinks still held true for him. He wasn’t even entirely sure where that last thought had come from. Besides, his neck was already occupied at the moment, so something like that wouldn’t be coming up anytime soon.

He pushed himself off of the bench, and he was very aware that Georgie and Melanie were watching him from her apartment window. He spared a moment to wave at their silhouetted forms. It was pretty easy to tell who was who, given that Georgie was a decent amount taller than Melanie and him.

Well, at least they expected him this time.

He didn’t even have a chance to knock on Georgie’s front door before he was pulled inside. He went still as arms wrapped around him, but it was just Georgie. That’s it. Just Georgie.

“Jonny, where the hell have you been?” Georgie asked as she pulled back. She eyed him up and down, and Jon suddenly felt very glad that using Glamour covered his scars.

“I, um. Well, I’m just going by Jon these days, and…” He trailed off. “I don’t even know where to begin. But I’m back in London, and I’m… safe,” he breathed out. “So I figured I would let you know, and then my grandmother, but…” Then something caught his attention. Jon looked around quickly. “Where’s The Admiral?” Of course, the answer came to him before Georgie could open her mouth. He was locked in Georgie’s bedroom, just in case something went wrong. He paused to listen, and he can hear The Admiral scratch and meowing at the door.

Jon stared at the door, and he knew that Melanie and Georgie were staring at him. “Is this about all the child support I owe you?” Jon asked dryly to Georgie, expecting dry retort in return, but it didn’t come.

Instead Georgie looked off for a moment. “Jon…”

“Oh. I can go if you want,” Jon immediately offered. “I, um, don’t want to overstay? I know you were busy this morning-”

“No.” Georgie reached over and took Jon’s shoulder. “No, it’s just… Your g-... Jon, I should call the police?”

“No?” Jon frowned down at the ground. “No, no, I’m fine. It’s fine now.”

“Well, what the fuck happened then?” Melanie asked from where she was leaning against the wall.

“I really, _really_ don’t want to talk about it.” He glanced back towards the door.

“Are you really going to leave without telling The Admiral hi?” Georgie gestured towards the door.

Jon jerked to look at her, a small smile hesitantly coming to him. “You’re going to let me see him?”

“Yeah, of course.” She kept glancing back at Jon as she crossed the room, as if he might disappear while she’s not looking.

The Admiral burst out of the room. The fluffy cat stopped to meow up at Georgie, possibly demanding an explanation for why he was locked away. Or perhaps he just wanted food.

“Oh it’s my boy,” Jon laughed quietly. He couldn’t stop smiling. “He’s gotten so big!”

“Yeah, he needs to lose some weight,” Melanie snorted.

“Don’t say that it’s mean,” Jon chided.

“It’s not like he can understand me.”

“Don’t you two start,” Georgie called out to them. She picked The Admiral up and started walking him over.

“What if he doesn’t remember me?” Jon suddenly asked, the horror of that imagined scenario causing him to back away.

“Jon just take him.” Georgie practically dumped The Admiral in Jon’s arms, leaving him the only option of just holding him.

He was so soft, and Jon wasted no time in running his fingers through The Admiral’s fur. “Yes, yes I know,” Jon muttered as The Admiral started running his face on Jon’s face, hands, arms, and anywhere he could reach. “I’m sorry I haven’t been home in a while, but I’m here now.”

And that was that. It was as simple as that.

“I’m here,” Jon repeated, trying to keep a good hold on The Admiral as he wiggled around attempting to get to as much of Jon as he could. “I’m here. I’m… safe.”

He tried to turn away from The Admiral as he started sobbing. He was fairly sure that his Glamour kept his tears from looking black, but he didn’t want to take the risk

He couldn’t say the same for Georgie’s shirt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is certainly a second chapter, and not how I originally planned it to go, but it happened? Please tell me what you guys think of this, I haven't really written something of this nature before.


	3. Chapter 3

“Alright, I’d had enough of this.” Jon marched out of the bedroom and through the kitchen towards the front door. “I need to get a job.”

“Jon!” Martin cried out, and suddenly two very large arms were grabbing Jon around the waist and tugging him up and away.

“Martin?” Jon turned to see that it was indeed Martin who was currently stopping him from leaving. “Martin! Let me go!” Jon snarled, attempting to wriggle out of Martin’s grasp. He twisted around, scratched at Martin’s arms, but he was helpless as Martin just carried him back to the living room and dropped him on the couch.

“I thought you said you have no interest in being my jailer,” Jon sneered up at him.

“Jon, you aren’t wearing your Glamour. And you’re still in my pajamas. And you haven’t eaten yet either,” Martin pointed out as he quickly rolled down his sleeves of his maroon sweater from where they were balled up around his elbows.

Jon didn’t want to look down at himself, but Martin couldn’t lie so he knew that it was true, but he didn’t want it to be true. He just wanted to go and do something, not have to waste time doing things like getting dressed and eating. “You could have told me instead of grabbing me.”

“I’m sorry.” Most of the time Martin’s apologies seemed more reflexive than anything, and it was just so _irritating_ hearing the same information over and over again. “I could have done that, but I’m just… Worried about you.”

Jon groaned, and threw his arm over his eyes so he didn’t have to see Martin’s pity.

Martin sighed softly, and absentmindedly started playing with Jon’s hair. “I know, I know, but it’s been a week since… well, you found out. And you haven’t done anything besides shower and eat, and all the sudden you’re running out the door.”

“She wouldn’t have wanted me… lounging around when there’s things I could be doing.”

“You’re _mourning_ Jon. You need to give yourself a break.”

Jon’s eyes fell closed, and he laid both of his hands on his stomach. Martin’s fingers felt nice, carding through his hair like that. “It’s not like I have much to do anyways. And I have four years of no work experience against me.”

“Plus you can only keep your Glamour up a few hours at a time. How are you going to do a whole shift?”

Jon sighed, a full body thing that exited all of the air out of his lungs at once. “I hate having nothing to do, nothing to work on. I can’t just stay in this apartment.” He finally looked up at Martin, who wasn’t quite meeting his eyes. “You don’t leave the apartment much. Where do you get your money from?”

“Peter.”

Jon raised an eyebrow. “What _is_ your relationship with Peter? You didn’t seem terribly fond of him the other day, but if he’s paying you...”

Martin hesitated. “He’s my… We’re... Um.. I... he just… needs someone to manage his money and properties while he’s in Faerie, and I enjoy not starving.” His fingers stilled for a moment in Jon’s hair. “I could start asking around, if you want? There are shops owned by other supernaturally inclined people.”

Jon looked up at Martin, a small, relieved smile coming to him. “Thank you.”

Martin smiled down at Jon, reaching down to run his thumb across Jon’s cheek, and Jon didn’t stop himself from leaning into it. “Of course Jon. I really do just want you to be happy.”

Jon sighed, his smile falling. “Well, it’s better for you in the long run anyways. I can’t imagine that you’ve been terribly happy with how I keep rearranging your bookshelf.”

Martin just snorted, and leaned down to press a kiss to Jon’s forehead. “You can do whatever you want to the bookshelf. Why don’t you relax some? I’ve got a bit of a mess to clean up in the kitchen, and some people to text.”

“I’ve been doing nothing but relaxing for a _week_ ,” Jon immediately argued, attempting to sit up. He didn’t get far before Martin placed his hand on the center of Jon’s chest and pushed him back down. “Really?” Jon sighed, ignoring the small thrill that this sent through him.

“Mourning isn’t rest. You almost just walked out of here without shoes or Glamour. That’s dangerous Jon.”

Jon groaned, but stopped struggling. “Fine, fine. Are you making lunch, or should I?”

“I’m making lunch, I’ll get you a sandwich or something in a second. Just, relax, alright?” Martin left his hand for a moment, and once he was sure that Jon was done struggling he walked back to the kitchen.

“Relax,” Jon muttered to himself. “Right.” He laid one hand on top of the other, tapped his fingers along his skin, and tried very hard not to think about his grandmother. “I need a cellphone. Then at the very least I might be able to get Georgie to text me pictures of The Admiral.”

“Do you want to use mine?”

“No, she hadn’t told me her phone number yet. If I were just to text her I’m sure it would scare her. Or at the very least make her concerned.” Jon huffed out a sigh, and shook his head. “I can’t do this.” He pushed himself off of the couch. “I can’t just sit here and do _nothing_.”

“Alright, _fine_.” Martin caught him before Jon could follow him into the kitchen and pushed a plate into his hands. “Eat, get dressed, and then I have an errand for you to run.”

Jon took the plate with a raised eyebrow. “An errand?”

Martin shrugged, smiling down at Jon. “You wanted something to do. I just have something imported from Faerie that needs to be delivered to a couple people who run a shop. It’s close enough that you should be able to get there before your Glamour becomes too tiring to keep up. Oh, this is a fae-touched place, not a fae place, so, um...”

“Don’t tell anyone about our… situation.”

“Well, you can,” Martin said quickly. “I’m not going to stop you, it’s really up to you-”

“Martin, shut up,” Jon said forcefully as he took a bite of the sandwich.

* * *

_Cerberus’ Cache_ was a very small magic store owned by a coven of three Necromancers, and the decor very much seemed to follow that theme, though in clashing ways. It had rich black curtains that almost seemed to shimmer purple and blue, and antique looking furniture that seemed to be made of carved bone. There was also a large stuffed three headed dog toy that seemed to be charmed as when Jon opened it let out a few yips and welcomed him to the store, and the ceiling was strung with small little multicolored skull lights.

There weren't many people in the shop thankfully, so it was quite easy to move around the small area. He got a few odd looks as he explored the wares, and only realized once he passed a mirror that showed sped up version of how his face would decay after he died that he still had his Glamour on.

It was easy to forget how weighed down he felt while wearing the Glamour, and just how much of a relief it was to take it off. He knew that he wasn’t actually constricting his breathing, but he felt like he was taking deeper breaths when he had it off.

He wandered through the aisles, looking around as he observed this establishment’s wares. He passed by a wall of masks with a “Do Not Touch” sign sat in front of it, jars of magical bugs that cleaned skeletons, glass eyes that had dilating pupils, supplies to make your own real and fake phylacteries, crystal growing kits, cards that you drew that set your future in stone, a presumably reanimated raven that was swearing at people near the cash register (Jon had to stop to marvel at the size, he hadn’t realized how big ravens were), there was even a small “Kidz Korner” that Jon had to promptly leave when he noticed that the “My First Reanimation” kits not only included the skeletons small birds, but also large dead spiders.

Jon had stopped to read a sign on the wall (“We accept Cash, Credit, Bones of Living and Deceased Family Members, Souls of the Damned, Ghost-Haunted Objects, Souls of the Blessed, and Cheque”) when he saw someone that might be an employee out of the corner of his eye.

She was a tall black woman, whose hair was pulled into a bun built of many smaller braids on the top of her head. She was wearing a shirt that said _Reduce, Reuse, Reanimate_ on the back with three small dog skills in the middle of the triangle the words formed. Now, the shirt seemed to be linked to the store’s name, but perhaps they sold shirts here and she was just a frequent customer of this shop. She also seemed to be reorganizing books about the evils of the funeral industry and pamphlets about the benefits of promoting your body to dark magic after you died, but perhaps she was just a customer and was looking through them?

While debating if he should bother her or just wait for someone he was sure was an employee to materialize out of the barrel of swords (“made out of the blood of ones enemies and strengthened with their bones” read the sign tacked to the barrel) she seemed to sense someone’s eyes were on her and she turned around.

Her eyes were like his own, where they glowed like a nocturnal animal in the low light, and the old papery texture of her skin was similar to his. Her fingernails were made out of bone, as it helped crease paper better, and the dark skin of her fingers was stained even darker by ink that Jon knew from experience would never wash away. Her eyes were wide behind her large, circular glasses as she regarded him.

“You’re the other Librarian’s assistant,” she nearly whispered as she blinked at him.

Jon smiled widely, and he crossed the aisle to come closer to her. “Well, I was. Bit hard to be a Librarian’s assistant after we burnt it down.”

She laughed, but it was barely there from shock. When he started to come closer she practically bolted to him, and gripped his shoulders tightly, poked at his face, and tugged at his hair. “Right, so, you’re real,” she was kind enough to inform him. “You’re real, and… you made it.”

Jon smiled up at her, his sharp teeth glinting in the light. “I told you I would.”

She nodded, her lips pressed tightly into a line, and for a second she looked like she might cry. Then she smiled, laughed, and relaxed her grip on him, but didn’t quite let go. “My name’s Sasha.”

Jon’s breath caught in his chest for a moment. “I’m Jon.”

Sasha snorted down at him, and finally let him go. “John? Really? I’ve waited for three years to see you again, and your name’s _John_.”

“J-O-N. Short for Jonathan,” he corrected. Jon gripped the bag he was holding tightly. He felt like he was going to fall over, or fly away, and the bag might help him keep grounded.

“Ah, okay. That does suit you a bit better,” she assured him.

“I’m glad you approve,” he responded dryly, which was accompanied by a roll of his eyes. When Jon looked back at Sasha he noticed that the front of her shirt said _Cerberus’ Cache_ along with the image of three dog skulls. “Okay, so you do work here,” Jon sighed with relief.

“Oh, yeah. What’s up? We’ve got some cool books about bones.”

Jon shook his head, and patted the bag. “Martin sent me with something from Faerie. He said I was supposed to give it to one of the owners, but failed to tell me what their names are.”

Sasha grinned. “Oh, you know Martin? He’s a nice guy. And yeah, um, I think Gerry’s out today, and Oliver’s upstairs, but Tim should be in the back. Danny!” She yelled out suddenly, calling over to someone that Jon couldn’t see, but Sasha could because of her height. “I’m going to go talk to Tim, I’ll be right back.”

She didn’t wait for a confirmation before leaning Jon towards the back. Jon hesitated for a moment at the door, because it very clearly read _Employees Only_ and he most certainly wasn’t an employee, but Sasha waved him back.

Sitting at a table was a very handsome Asian man whose hair was pulled back into a short ponytail at the nape of his neck. He was bent over a very old book, but seemed relieved when Sasha came in, which quickly morphed into surprise when Jon followed.

“Oh, bringing a customer to the employees only area? Someone’s rebelling.”

Jon stopped in his tracks and took. “I can go back out?”

“He’s joking.” Sasha rolled her eyes, and gestured back towards Jon. “Martin sent him with something.”

“Oh!” Tim closed his grimoire. “Are you Jon? Martin said you were staying with him, and was looking for a job.”

Jon went quiet, because he had the sudden realization that he came to the place Martin was trying to get him a job at and didn’t tell him. Relief washed over him a second later when he realized that while he was wearing one of Martin’s very oversized hoodies at least Jon was wearing the one pair of pants that he has that fits him. “Yes,” Jon blurted when he came back to himself. “Sorry, Martin didn’t inform me that the places were the same, I was surprised.”

“Yeah, that seems like something Martin would do,” Tim snorted. “Take a load off. What did Martin get us this time?”

Jon took a seat, and shrugged. “He didn’t say, just handed the bag to me. He was in a bit of a rush to get out the door.” He took the bag off of his shoulder and slid it over to Tim.

“Fair enough,” Tim responded easily, and slipped his hand into the bag. He had to go up to his shoulder before he managed to find what he was looking for, and pulled out a tall bottle filled with a silvery liquid.

“Oh, this is pretty.” Tim turned it over in his hands, watching the liquid shine as it caught the light of the window. “A food though? We can’t really sell that…”

“Is that moonmead?” Sasha gasped, and snatched it from Tim.

“Hey!”

“I think it is.” Jon leaned close to search the bottle, but it didn’t have a label. It was just a silvery liquid that was still shining, even if the light wasn’t on it.

“What’s moonmead?”

“It’s mead made from silver honey that’s made by white bees that only collect pollen from moon flowers during the full moons on Faerie make, and water that’s only ever seen the light from the moon-”

“Though, they do cheat this by doing this in an area where it’s just night all the time and the full moons happen like once a week,” Sasha added.

“Yes well,” Jon gave Sasha an irritated look. Sasha just smirked and shrugged. “The mead not only is alcoholic, but also causes hallucinations and it’s said that if you drink too much of it you’ll be driven into madness. It’s rather expensive.”

Tim whistled, now eyeing the bottle. “Right well… How much can I drink before being driven mad?”

“Can you drink it at all?” Jon asked. “It’s fairy food.”

“Damn, you’re right…” Tim squinted at the bottle, tilting his head slightly back and forth as he seemed to be weighing something out. “I guess we can save it for when we have a decent amount of fae-touched over.”

“Aw, not going to risk it?” Sasha shook the bottle teasingly in front of Tim’s face.

“As amazing as being both drunk and high sounds I still want the ability to eat human food. Oh, Jon. Can you work nights?”

“Yes,” Jon responded without actually thinking if he could.

“Awesome, you’re hired. Have Sasha get you a shirt… We might have one small enough for you,” Tim teased as he looked Jon up and down. “The uniform is as goth as possible so-”

“Try and make yourself look like you work at _Hot Topic_ ,” Sasha interrupted.

“Mean.” Tim pointed at Sasha. “Stop being mean. I’ll make Danny the manager.”

“Danny sometimes leaves half way through his shift to do something more interesting,” Sasha pointed out right back.

“You’re wearing a Hawaiian shirt,” Jon pointed out, becoming a third in the pointing and pointing out party.

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool, isn’t it?” He pulled down the bottom of the shirt, as if Jon couldn’t understand the black and red skull pattern on his Hawaiian shirt before.

Sasha shook her head, and turned to Jon. “Just dress in black and you’ll be fine.”

“Right.” Mentally Jon started going through Martin’s wardrobe, and his mind went back to the clothes he wore in Uni, and even before that when he was still living with- the sharp sting of grief pierced him before he could stop his line of thinking, and he quickly mentally backtracked. Martin’s clothes would work, or they could go shopping. Simple as that. “I can do that.”

“How long have you been on this side?” Tim’s eyes were gazed upon a hoodie that obviously didn’t fit him, and Jon found himself scowling reflexively.

“Nine day so far. I apologize about my appearance, I haven’t had the chance to see if I can get my old belongings, let alone buy new ones-”

“Oh,” Tim interrupted, hands up in the air. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound like that. I was just wondering. If you still need time to get set up would you be able to start next week?”

“Yes, fine,” Jon responded tersely. “What time should I come in?”

“Around four should be fine.” Tim looked at Sasha, and gave her a small nod. “Why don’t you get Jon situated and I’ll go help Danny in the front?”

“Yeah I got it.”

“Awesome, see you in a bit.” With a nod towards Jon Tim fled out into the store.

Jon sighed, crossing his arms. “I’m probably going to have to apologize for that later.”

“You can do it now you know,” Sasha reminded him with a raised eyebrow.

Jon made a grumbling noise and curled his lip. “You mentioned something about shirts?”

Sasha laughed, and pointed down a hall. “Come with me, they’re in the manager’s office.”

It wasn’t a terribly far walk, and just two doors down from the room they were currently in, and they were both soon elbow deep in boxes of identical shirts.

“Sasha,” Jon started suddenly with some realization. “Can I ask you some questions?”

“Yeah of course.” She doesn’t look up from the shirts. “What’s up?”

Jon pulled out his notebook, and started looking through his bullet points, trying to figure out which were the most pertinent to ask first before it started to get annoying. “Martin mentioned that the tithe is between Faerie and whatever supernatural beings are currently in charge. Who’s currently in charge?”

Sasha grimaced. “No one right now, the hunters have been pretty active recently. The mages are trying to fill the vacuum, but fae are pretty against that, seeing as mages are technically humans and would get rid of the tithe all together. I should warn you the hunters actually.” Sasha turned to look at Jon. “There’s a lot more hunting going on lately, so be careful. And they’re not going for nuance these days. Ten or so years ago they took out the entire Lukas family, and they were just a bunch of occult loving humans. I mean, they were also rich assholes, but…”

Jon nodded, his mind going back to this morning, and he was suddenly very glad that Martin had stopped him. “Alright, are the police involved?”

“Yeah, sort of? They have an entire section for dealing with the supernatural, but deal with more the human side of things? Like, they’re covering up disappearances and stuff, but they’re probably not going to be dragging you back to Faerie or something.”

“Why is there a tithe in the first place?”

Sasha groaned. “Besides the obvious manual labor, I have no idea, and it’s infuriating. If you find out let me know. Here, I think this will fit you?” She held up a shirt to his body, and grabbed another one of its size. “Do you have any other questions?” She asked as she stood up, and held out a hand to help him up.

“I think I’m good.” Jon stuffed the notebook back into his jacket before she could see anything else he had written. He took Sasha’s hand, and let her pull him up.

“How have you been doing lately?”

“I’m f-” Jon choked, and grabbed his throat. The word wouldn’t come out. “I’m fi-” And yet again, he just couldn’t say it.

Sasha just watched him with a sad smile on her face.

Jon just sighed harshly, and shook his head. “I just want to be okay. I’m back in London, I’m safe. I should be fine.”

Sasha placed a hand on Jon’s shoulder. “You know, it’s fine if you’re not okay.”

“I _want_ to be. I’ve done nothing but fight for four years.” Jon sighed, and looked down at his scarred hands. “I just want this to be over.”

* * *

The door sounded heavy as it shut, to the point where it startled Jon.

The apartment is… quiet, and maybe for the first time Jon realized how empty it was.

Perhaps it was just the comparison between _Cerberus’ Cache_ and Martin’s apartment, but if it’s the shop owned by a trio of necromancers that feels more lively, that probably isn’t a good thing.

The front door opened into the kitchen which shared the same room as the living room, and from there a hallway branched off into a bathroom and a bedroom. That was it. It should feel smaller, but maybe it was the elements of open planning, maybe it was the minimalist furniture all in blacks and greys and whites, or maybe it was that Martin didn’t seem to have anything personal… anywhere, but the apartment seemed so much emptier than it probably should.

“Oh, you’re back. How was your day?” Martin asked. He had changed his sweater, it was now soft and pastel yellow and far, far more pleasant than the stark apartment.

“Fine. I got the job.” Jon set the back on the table and walked over to lean on the counter next to Martin.

“That’s great.” Martin smiled down at him, and it was comforting. Especially with the realization of the empty apartment cold against his back. “I’m making tea, did you want any?”

“Yes please. Martin, do we have any neighbors?” Jon asked as the thought suddenly occurred to him. He hadn’t seen anyone on his way out, and hadn’t heard anyone else the entire time he was there.

Martin shook his head as he started going through the boxes. “No, not right now. Well, I think so? Even when there are other people living here it’s hard to tell. But right now the building is empty, well, except for us. Someone moves in every so often, but they never stay for long.”

When they sat down at the dining table for tea it was the first time Jon noticed just how uncomfortable the chairs were.

* * *

Dinner had been something that sort of resembled lasagna, sort of resembled the ocean, and over all just tasted fishy.

Jon’s third shower was done quickly, which meant he caught Martin in the middle of changing. This wasn’t a big deal normally, as both were trying their best to adapt to this living situation quickly, and therefore forced themselves quite quickly through the awkwardness of sharing one bedroom.

This time, however, Jon was distracted by white bandages that were wrapped around a good four inches or so of both of his forearms, the visible scratches that weren’t covered by the bandages, and a hospital bracelet.

“Oh shit,” Martin swore softly, and quickly pulled his long sleeved nightshirt on, as if that would magically make Jon forget what he saw. “I’m really tired so I’m going to go to bed good night!” Martin climbed into bed as quickly as he could, his back turned to Jon.

Jon got dressed at a deliberate pace. He wasn’t rushing, nor was he taking his time. He climbed into the other side of the bed and stared down Martin, who hadn’t even taken his glasses off, but was squeezing his eyes closed.

Jon didn’t even acknowledge this, and just focused on Martin’s arm in front of him. Carefully, he pushed back one of the sleeves until some of the bandage was on display.

He stared at the bandages covering Martin’s forearms. “Did I do that?”

Martin sighed and opened his eyes. “Well, yes, but it’s fine, I’m fine-”

“How are you doing that?” Jon interrupted. “You’re obviously not okay.” He gestured towards Martin, and Martin’s arms in particular. “How are you saying that you’re fine?”

Martin shrugged sheepishly. “Because it is fine? I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that.”

“You went to the hospital-”

“Oh no, you marked up the person who magically owns you, how terrible.”

Jon gritted his teeth. “It’s _not_ fine that I hurt you.”

“Yes it is,” Martin argued. “I have a bit of a position of power. It’s _good_ that you can hurt me, and I’m a big guy. I can take a bit of ab-” Martin cut himself off quickly. “I can take a bit of pain,” Martin finished. “It’s not a big deal, let’s just go to bed.” He turned to lay on his back, and was now just staring up at the ceiling.

Jon’s face went cold as he regarded Martin. He lunged for Martin’s wrist, and grasped as lightly as he could while still holding on. That lunge also left Jon half way across Martin, as he went for Martin’s right wrist with his left hand.

“Jon if you wanted my wrist you could have just asked,” Martin mumbled as he used his free hand to help Jon into a more comfortable position, which was straddling Martin’s left thigh.

“You’re still wearing your hospital bracelet,” Jon pointed out.

“Yeah?”

“I can find out your name.” Jon said each word deliberately, like he was tasting each one as they came out.

Martin’s eyes widened, and he glanced between Jon and the bracelet.

Jon watched Martin, and when it was clear he wasn’t going to get the response he wanted Jon narrowed his eyes. “I can do it, you know. It wouldn’t make us equals per say, but it might make things a bit more balanced. I could do it.”

Martin just blinked dumbly at him. “... Are you going to do it?”

“Are you going to _stop me_?”

“Um.” Martin paused to think. “Probably not? I’m not sure how much it would affect anything, but if it makes you more comfortable-”

Jon interrupted him with a scoff and dropped Martin’s wrist.

Martin frowned, and reached out to lightly lay his hands on Jon’s arm. “What do you want Jon?”

“I want my life back!” Jon suddenly exploded, throwing his hands up. “I want my clothes back, my apartment, my things. I want to have been at my grandmother’s side when she died.” Jon choked out, and inky tears ran freely down his face, landing in blotches on both of their nightclothes. “I want her to have some peace, not think that she had one more dead kid, and this time she didn’t even get to bury him. I want my grandmother’s things! The pictures, the piano, where did they all go?!

“I want to be okay with this.” Jon told Martin intently, grabbing onto Martin’s shoulders. “This was a- a _fantasy_ I had that, an-and now that I’m actually _living it_ …” Jon trailed off with a self deprecating laugh. He leaned forward into Martin, and his voice got quieter. “I suppose I jus- I just want to be able to enjoy it, it would be so much easier if I did. And after everything I’ve been through I deserve to enjoy some things.

“I want to be _okay_. I want to be _fine_. I never had any plans for when I got back, it was always just… get back to London. That’s it, for the last four years. And now I am back, and I’m not actually even free, I’m not even human anymore.

Jon took a few deep breaths and let go of Martin’s shoulders. He leaned back to sit his full weight on Martin’s leg, looking oddly stunned. Then his mouth twisted into a bitter smile. “Well, that was my ‘I want’ song. A bit dramatic, but who knows, maybe I’ll win- Oh.” Jon’s eyes went wide as he noticed the mess his tears had made of their nightshirts and pants. “Why didn’t you- oh shit.”

“Sorry!” Martin helped Jon as he scrambled off of his leg. “Sorry, it just… looked like you needed that? And they’re only pajamas, they can take a bit of damage.”

Jon sighed, ducking his head down. “Right well... let’s just get them in the wash.”

* * *

Jon leaned against the washing machine now clad in a hoodie that he had stolen from Martin. “I need my own clothes.”

“Then we’ll get you some. We can see if we can find any of your old things? Maybe one of your friends is storing them? If not, then we can just go shopping. It’s not like Peter’s going to run out of money any time soon. Here.” Martin had come back out of the bathroom with a towel, which he held out to Jon. “It’s my dye towel, from when I used to color my hair. You can use it to wipe your face up with, and not worry about it.”

Jon sighed out his nose, but smiled softly as he took the towel. “Thank you.”

Martin nodded quickly, and looked away even quicker. “Jon…”

“I’m not going to have this conversation.”

“Oh, well. Um.” He came over and leaned against the driver. “I guess you’ll just have to listen then.”

“Christ, really?”

“Yes really! This is a weird, and honestly kind of scary, situation, an-and it’s not going to get any better if we don’t talk.” Martin sighed, fiddling with his fingers. 

Jon watched him, and when Martin didn’t continue he raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

“Yeah, um… Trying to figure out where to start. I mean, you know it’s okay that you’re not okay, right? Just because you’re back on this side of the Hedge-”

“Yes, yes I know Martin.”

“Alright, but do you? Because you just went off for a bit on how you just wanted to be okay.”

“Look, it’s just a lot right now, and I didn’t actually make any plans for what would happen after I get to London, which in hindsight was very stupid, so I’m… catching up.

Martin gave a few shallow nods, and then a self conscious laugh. “Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help, okay? And I am really sorry for grabbing you like that this morning.”

“As I’ve said before, I really don’t mind you touching me, or… I don’t know, picking me up. Please don’t pick me up and stop me from leaving again.”

“I won’t,” Martin promised, but his eyes lingered on Jon.

“Just do it,” Jon sighed.

“Are you sure, I-”

“Martin, please?”

Jon asking nicely was all it took for Martin to scoop up Jon by his underarms and set him gently on top of the still drier. “Wow, that seemed… very easy for you.” Jon commented, seeming a bit dazed.

Martin nodded, his arms falling to rest on either side of Jon’s hips, which he leaned forward onto. “You’re not very heavy.” He was smiling, and looking quite pleased with himself.

Jon raised an eyebrow at Martin. “Alright so, before we talk about the fantasy thing I will just say that this entire time I’ve been under the assumption that we would be having sex. In my defense, I’m fairly certain that one of the reasons a fae might take a fae-touched as a pet is specifically for sex.”

Martin, now very red, nodded a bit. “I don’t think you’re wrong? You know how fae also think I’m a fae? The last time all the fae in London got together I swear to God that one of the Seelie had their pet sucking them off under the table, it was so awkward.”

“...Really?”

“Yeah, I know! Honestly, I get it, everyone has their kinks and all that, I just would have really appreciated it if they had asked my permission before including me in a scene of there’s. I guess maybe it was a power play thing? Though I’ll be honest, I don’t find having your dick out in the middle of a group of people that intimidating.”

“Do you attend these meetings often?”

“Not really,” Martin shrugged. “They don’t happen very often, and even then I try to avoid them.”

Jon looked off for a moment, eyes darting as he thought some things over. “I’m trying to learn more about the beginnings of the tithe. Next time you’re invited may I come with you?”

“Oh, yeah of course. Fair warning though, you’re probably not going to treat you nicely.”

Jon couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Oh no, I’m not going to be treated nicely, that’s certainly never happened before.”

“Alright, alright, fine. Next time we’ll go, and you can just spend the meeting sitting in my lap and looking pretty or something while gathering information.” Martin stared down Jon for a moment, but seemed to have realized what he had said. He then turned very red and ducked away.

“You get worked up quickly, don’t you?” Jon observed with a smirk.

“Right well, your turn.” Martin rounded back on Jon, still flushing a bit, and looking a bit put out. “Explain the fantasy thing.”

Jon opened his mouth, closed it, and just threw his hands up a bit. “Sex is fun, if a bit gross. I enjoy it with the proper… physical stimulation first. It’s not usually something I seek out,” Jon told the ceiling, as he could no longer look at Martin. “It’s… I don’t know what you want to hear, it’s a sexual fantasy, a-a small role play thing I did with a past partner. You know, wearing a collar, being wanted, cuddling, kinky sex, and all that.” 

Martin hesitated at first. “You said you wanted to enjoy... this, and that it would be easier if you did. Do you actually think that?”

Jon’s eyes dropped from the ceiling to land on Martin. “Are you proposing something Martin?”

“I’m just asking.” Martin raised his hands up defensively. “I just want to make you happy and comfortable. I mean, yeah sounds like a bit of fun, but also I’m not sure if adding sex is going to make things any simpler. There’s kinda the fact that you’re wearing my collar all the time? Like, sure the dynamic is really fun to play with, but there’s no real way for us to completely step away from it.” Martin lowered his hands again, tapping his fingers along the drier.

“Well, wonderful. Why did you even bring it up then?”

“Because you brought it up! I’m just trying to help.”

Jon let out a short breath. “Martin, pushing yourself to always be ‘helpful’-” He paused to make physical air quotes. “And disregard yourself because of how guilty you feel isn’t going to be good for either of us in the long run.”

“I’m not doing that.” Martin backed away from Jon, crossing his arms over his chest, and didn’t quite look at him.

“May I remind you that I hurt you enough to where you thought you needed to go to the hospital, and you’re still not letting me apologize for it?”

“I have lawyers!” Martin suddenly announced, but just as quickly he hunched over, looking around as if there was anyone else that could hear him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to shout.”

“Lawyers, Martin. Why did you bring that up? Are you going to sue me for trying to do the right thing?”

“Stop being so dramatic. And by me, I mean Peter’s stuff comes with lawyers that I guess he’s worked with previously, or I guess his family did-”

“Are you going to get the point soon?”

“Christ,” Martin muttered under his breath. “For finding your missing property? And I’m pretty sure you’re going to need to come out as not missing anymore. Plus, with you working you’re going to need access to your bank account, unless you want to keep everything in a lockbox. I mean, I have absolutely no idea how property law works, but it would make sense to me if your stuff went to your closest relative.”

Jon nodded stiffly. “Which at the time would have been my grandmother.”

Martin turned to face Jon, eyes downcast before finally looking up at him. “Jon, I’m so-”

“I’m an adult, I don’t need to be coddled every time…” Jon turned to glare at one of the walls. “Our relationship wasn’t even the best, I know how she felt about me, so…” He trailed off as his voice broke, and stared resolute at the wall.

“Towel,” Martin reminded him softly.

“Right.” Jon tightened his hold on the towel, and brought it up to scrub at his eyes and face. “So. How long do you need to wear the bandages for?” Jon asked after a few moments of silence.

“Um, they need to be kept dry for a day or two, and after that I think it’ll take five to ten days until I can get the stitches-”

“ _Stitches_?!” Jon repeated, eyes wide as he looked over Martin’s face. “How deep did I cut you?”

“It’s honestly not that bad, the stitches are only in three places. And I heal faster than normal people now, so it’s not going to take long to heal.” Despite how reassuring Martin’s tone was trying to be his face didn’t match. He wasn’t quite looking at Jon either, instead towards the living room with a furrowed brow.

Jon placed a hand on Martin’s cheek, and turned his face toward Jon’s. “Martin, look at me. Is something wrong?”

Martin opened his mouth, and hesitated.

“Martin?”

“I…” Martin started, which was followed by a sigh. “Look it’s probably nothing, it’s just… while I was bleeding I swear some of my blood was grey.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens! And a special thanks to dundee998 for betaing this chapter for me!

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in a day on a whim after getting inspired by stuff in a discord server I'm in, I haven't really written something like this before, I hope people like it? Let me know if I need to tag anything else


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